


Higher

by DisneyPrincess



Category: Once Upon A Time - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Curse AU, F/M, First Meeting, Fluff, Priest!Killian, Romance, lusting after the untouchable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2014-09-30
Packaged: 2018-02-19 05:23:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2376293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisneyPrincess/pseuds/DisneyPrincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma is trying to believe Henry when he tells her that every one is a story book character, but how can she believe that the devilishly handsome priest was once a pirate. And how was she supposed to be a good sheriff, or person, when she couldn't fight off her attraction towards him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Higher

The church had been the first building to be built when the town had been founded. Or at least, that was what Mary Margaret had been insisting as she lead Emma towards it. To be honest, her friend wasn't all that into a higher power, she had just wanted an excuse to bump into David, whose wife dragged him there every Sunday. Mary Margaret would never admit that though. 

Emma, being the good friend that she was, allowed the woman to pull her along. It wasn't that Emma hated the idea of going to church, it just bored her, and the concept of a higher power had never been too appealing. Group homes and foster parents didn't exactly make her believe that someone was watching out for her. 

But she shoved those thoughts away as they stepped into the church. It was mostly wood and clearly older. The pews creaked as they took a seat in the last, empty, row, but they seemed sturdy. The walls didn't shine with polish, but massive stained glass windows were set into them, drawing any and all attention. 

Some depicted angels in the throes of battle. Others were women and men, bathed in a soft glow, hands together and folded. Their colors were reflected on the single aisle as the sun sank. And down that aisle, draped with the seemingly soft red carpet, walked the most handsome man Emma had ever seen.

Well, first, there was the alter boy, holding a large, golden cross. Then came two more holding what looked like crystal jars. Then came the priest. The man with the strong jaw, jet black hair, and piercing blue eyes. Oh, and the clerical collar that practically screamed at her how wrong her sudden attraction was. Emma averted her eyes and folded her hands tightly in her lap as Mary Margaret leaned closer.

"That would be the priest, Father Jones. He's been the priest here for as long as I can remember," she whispered. Emma nodded slowly, training her gaze on one of the stain glass windows as the procession made it's way up to the altar. 

"Good morning," Father Jones greeted jovially from behind the altar. "I do hope you are all as excited to be here as God is to see you all. I've got a great sermon prepared for you, but first, I'm going to read out the church announcements for this week. The church bake sale will be going on this Wednesday, and the volunteer sign up sheet will be in my office after mass. Bible study will..." As Father Jones continued on in that deep voice that sent a jolt through her, Emma tried her best to tune him out. 

She had made hundreds of mistakes in her life, but lusting after a priest would not be one of them. So for the rest of the sermon, she sat staring at the stained glass image of Mary Magdalene kneeling. She had a light shinning behind her and she looked so at peace. Emma couldn't bring herself to look away for the rest of the mass. 

As the procession was once again leaving, Emma chanced a glance at the priest. He looked up and met her eyes and for a moment she couldn't breathe. They were even more stunning when they were focused on her. But then after offering her a small smile, he continued outside. Emma let out a deep breath and turned to see of Mary Margaret had noticed the exchange. 

Her eyes were focused on David, who was happily chatting with his wife and exiting their pew. 

\-----

It was only a few minutes later that they were able to get free of the pews and make there way out the main doors in the crowd. Most people headed straight for their cars, but a few stayed behind to compliment the priest on his sermon. Katherine and David were two of those individuals, so by extension, so was Mary Margaret. 

"He was great, wasn't he?" She whispered to Emma, eyes trailing the couple that had just been speaking with the priest. 

"Mhmm," Emma said noncommittally as her eyes fell on Father Jones once more. He was turning towards them with an open smile. But there was something beneath those blue eyes as they landed on her.... 

"Always a pleasure to see you Mary Margaret," he greeted her, shaking her hand. "And who is this new comer?" He asked, eyes fixing in on her. Emma felt a chill run down her spine but she fought to keep her expression neutral. 

"Emma Swan,"

Killian shook her hand and Emma pretended she didn't love his touch. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I hope you'll be a permanent fixture in our congregation, miss Swan."

They pulled away from each other and Emma forced her gaze away before she started thinking really inappropriate things. But he was still watching her. "It was a beautiful sermon as always." Mary Margaret complimented. Emma felt his gaze leave her face finally and shift to her. 

"Thank you, as always, it was the Lord speaking through me," he said graciously. 

"Well he has a way with words," she responded, patting the Father on his shoulder and leading Emma away. 

"Emma, he is a priest," She scolded the moment they were out of earshot. 

Crap. The last thing Emma wanted was for Mary Margaret to notice. The woman wasn't smart, but Emma had been hoping with David so near, she wouldn't focus on anything else. Her bad. Now she had to convince herself and Mary Margaret that there was nothing wrong with noticing how handsome a man was.

Emma followed her friend down the sidewalk toward their apartment. "What are you talking about?" She asked, playing dumb. 

"You were looking at him like he wasn't wearing a clerical collar," Snow explained hugging her sweater closer and peeking up at Emma. Emma sighed and crossed her arms.

"Says the woman following a married man around," Emma bit back, instantly regretting it. Mary Margaret looked away lips pulled tight. 

"Fine, if both of us are going to ignore our moral compasses, then there's no judging." Mary Margaret insisted, crossing her arms.

"Fine," Emme agreed, even though she wasn't the one actually acting on feelings. Not that she had feelings. Not for a priest. 

They walked the rest of the way home in silence. When they got back to their apartment there was a lack of Henry. He was probably at Regina' s house. Great, she thought to herself as she went to her room and collapsed on her bed. She couldn't be attracted to a man who might actually feel the same way, and she couldn't see her son.

As she began to feel herself relax, Mary Margaret appeared in her door way and leaned against the door jam. Emma propped herself up to look up at the woman. There were bobby pins holding back her short hair and she was wearing a stretched out, pale pink pull over that meant she'd been stressing out over something. 

"I'm sorry about today," she apologized touching her temple. She came in and took a seat on the edge of Emma's bed, "I've just been in this state where all I can think about is David, and no matter what I do I can't seem to get him out of my mind. And seeing him with her, happy, it kills me, but at least I get to see him. When they left I was already testy and then I noticed you looking but I shouldn't have gone off on you." 

Emma pushed herself onto the edge beside Mary Margaret and wrapped an arm around her friend. She leaned her head on Emma's shoulder. Emma wasn't mad at Mary Margaret, she wasn't capable of it. Her friend was literally the nicest person alive. And she was going through a rough patch. Emma definitely knew what men were capable of putting women through. 

"Don't worry about it. I know this sucks," Emma said in an attempt to comfort her. "Maybe it would help if you stopped going..." Mary Margaret's eyes fell shut. Emma knew she didn't want to consider that option. How could she when she was convinced they were meant to be?

"But then you wouldn't get to see Father Jones," She joked, looking up at Emma. They shared a small smile.

"Well if looking is all I can do, I might as well," Emma kidded. She was secretly debating whether or not church would be a repeat event for her though. She knew it was wrong to go to mass just to ogle Father Jones, but where else would she see him? There really wasn't a choice. Besides, Mary Margaret would probably drag her there anyways. 

"It would be a crime not to enjoy such a great view," she played along. 

"A tragedy, really," Emma said with a grin. 

Mary Margaret stood up with a grin and brushed some invisible lint from her sweater. "Well I have some shopping to do. I volunteered for the bake sale and we don't have nearly enough flour," she explained. "Want to come?" 

"No thanks, I'm gonna wait for Henry to show up. I have something I wanted to ask him," Emma said, stretching back out on her bed. She heard Mary Margaret grab her bag and keys then just before the door slammed, she called a quick 'goodbye'.

Emma fell asleep only minutes later. Probably had something to do with getting up at 8 o' clock in the morning.

\-----

The light in Emma's bedroom was much softer when she was impatiently shaken awake by a small hand. "Moooooom, wake up," Henry demanded, continuing to nudge her shoulder. 

Emma hauled herself up off of the bed and allowed rubbed her eyes. Henry stood by her bed, cheeks redder than usual, breathing hard, and story book stuck under his arm. She couldn't hold back her smile. As odd as her morning had been, Henry always put things back into perspective. He was her first priority. 

"What's got you all riled up? Did you run all the way here?" Emma asked as she rolled her shoulders and made room for Henry to sit beside her. He hopped up easily. 

"Yeah, I just wanted to see you," Henry said, settling his book on his lap. Emma couldn't stop herself from wrapping one arm around him and pulling him into a half hug. 

"I'm glad," she told his hair, pulling away. "I actually had something I wanted to ask you."

"Shoot." 

"I was wondering, in that book, who exactly is Father Jones?" Emma asked hesitantly. She didn't want Henry to get the wrong idea by her sudden interest. 

"Oh, you're lucky, I figured that one out pretty quick," Henry said, flipping open his book and falling on a page with a yellow ship on a stormy sea. "He dresses in black, lives by a strict code, and obviously the missing hand. He's Captain Hook." Henry looked up at her with a sure face, but all Emma could do was laugh. 

"You think a priest used to be a pirate," Emma choked out between laughs. Henry just curled up his lip and showed her the book. 

"Look, it makes sense. He got his happy ending taken away too. Now he lives a life where he can't loot places, or cause trouble, or drink." Henry explained. 

When Emma calmed down she had to admit it made a little sense. And she hadn't noticed his missing hand, she hadn't really been looking there, but she could see how that would suggest Captain Hook. There was also the fact that he looked as devilishly handsome as a pirate. And what priest wore guyliner and had an ear piercing? Not that Emma was buying into Henry's crazy ideas or anything. 

"I guess I could see it," Emma conceded. Henry nodded proudly and let the book fall shut. 

"I told you. So why did you ask?" Henry wondered aloud, putting the book to the side. Emma forced an easy smile. 

"Oh no reason, I was just curious."

\-----

By Monday, Emma was able to force herself to stop thinking about the priest. It had been easy once Emma focused entirely on her work. Unfortunately, when she came home that night, it was to Mary Margaret covered in flour and baking up a storm in the kitchen. All for the church bake sale in two days. 

"Oh, Emma, thank god you're home. Could you help with the brownies? I don't think I have enough hands," She asked, pulling a pan out of the oven.

Emma reluctantly took up a space beside Mary Margaret. "Fine, but I'm not wearing an apron," She stated, grabbing oven mitts.

\-----

The bake sale began bright and early at 8 in the morning on a Wednesday. Emma usually wasn't one to sleep in, but she wasn't really enjoying the way too early events that landed on weekdays. Maybe the church would have a larger congregation if they tried a later time in the day for all of their fun filled activities. Just a thought. 

After getting up ridiculously early, Emma had to help Mary Margaret load a dozen huge plates filed with treats into the car. And she did not get to sample any thing. Then there was the drive over, filed with Mary Margaret' s chipper attitude, no doubt because she knew she would be seeing David. Emma hadn't even gotten coffee.

There were already a few towns people and nuns setting up tables as they arrived. Marry Margaret grabbed a plate and approached the first table where she was greeted by mother Superior. Emma had never been a huge fan of nuns so she wandered off to explore the church grounds. Not to look for Father Jones.

She walked down the long aisle, letting her fingers trail over the bare pews as she went. It was much prettier when it was empty. But then, Emma had always preferred to be alone and in silence. She went all the way to the altar. To the far left and right, against the walls, were confessionals. Emma errantly thought that she'd never been in one before.

"Something to confess, lass?" Emma could barely control the shiver that ran down her spine at the sound of his voice. 

"I would have you here all day, Father Jones," Emma joked, hoping that would relieve her tension. It didn't.

"Fair enough, I imagine I'll get you in one eventually," Jones said in a low voice as he approached Emma, hands in his pockets. "Would you mind accompanying me to my office, miss Swan? I forgot some papers behind and I never pass up the opportunity to get to know one of my parishioners." He was looking at her with those eyes that seemed innocent, except something dangerous lurked just below the surface. 

Emma almost didn't believe she'd thought it, but it seemed as though he might have been flirting with her. That almost smile plastered on his stupid, perfect face. The way he was just waiting to see if she would humor him or not. It put her on edge, made her want to run, but Emma had been living a dangerous life for a while before she'd come to Storybrooke, and she wasn't averse to playing with fire.

"Lead the way, Padre," she replied. Father Jones smiled broadly at her and began down a hallway that was behind a door that sat just behind the altar. It was white tiles and white walls until they came to the first door on the right. On the door there was a little silver name plate that read Father Killian Jones. Now she got why everyone called him by his last name. 

"So what brought you to our humble church, Miss Swan?" Father Jones asked as he began rifling through his drawer. With one hand. It took Emma a moment to notice that the other hand was missing. He didn't have a prosthetic, just a long sleeve that seemed empty. 

"A very insistent friend," Emma said honestly, leaning against the door jam. He glanced up at her with a genuine, wide grin that made her stomach flip. 

"I appreciate the honesty, that's good form," he complimented, switching to his filing cabinet. "I do hope she persists, because I would hate to see you go." 

Emma raised an eyebrow he couldn't see. His back was to her. He really was flirting. Maybe he had been a pirate in a past life. "That's flattering, but I think you'd be fine if didn't make this regular," Emma said brusquely. She took in the hand full of bottles he had on a shelf behind his desk. Tiny ships were afloat inside of them. 

"For a woman who prides herself on her investigative skills, you aren't very perceptive," Jones said, pulling a file from the cabinet and shutting it behind him with a thunk. 

"How would you know any of that?" Emma asked, crossing her arms. She suddenly felt like they'd been speaking too long, and the whole exchange hadn't been her decision like she'd thought. He knew more than he was letting on. 

"I'm perceptive, love," He responded with another grin, this one a bit looser. He slipped by her, through the doorway, and even though Emma's arms had been crossed, he'd passed far too closely. She'd felt him brush past her, smelled his faint cologne, and it made her breathing hitch. She was clearly in too deep. "You coming? I would hate to worry Mary Margaret," he called from down the hall. 

Emma took a deep breath and followed after him. 

Outside, Father Jones tossed the file in a nearby trash bin, sending Emma a wink as he did it. 

\-----

Emma didn't show up to church that Sunday, even though Mary Margaret practically begged her, and it killed Emma to stay strong. She claimed she was too tired and that she would go next week, and after ten minutes, Mary Margaret gave up, but only because she didn't want to be late for mass. 

Emma didn't really know why she hadn't wanted to go to mass. It could have been the warmth that flooded her at the thought of Killian Jones, she was allowed to call him that as long as she never said it out loud. The way he flirted with her, winked at her. It was dangerous to be that friendly with someone who was effectively married. Look at Mary Margaret, she told herself. 

It also could have been because she was angry at herself and him for what had happened Wednesday. She should have been the bigger person and walked away before he started doing things like brushing past her. And he'd clearly manipulated her to get a few moments alone with her. She was fine with the latter most of the time, but she was not going to be manipulated by a man ever again. 

Regardless of the reason, she didn't go. 

But then the second Sunday rolled around and she couldn't help herself. She really did try. She told Mary Margaret the night before that she wouldn't be going, she didn't set her alarm clock.She stayed up late talking to Henry on their Walkie Talkies. She was set to miss that mass. And yet, she woke up an hour early. 

Once she was awake, Emma had to get up because Mary Margaret was making pancakes and she couldn't pass that up. Then she was cold, so she put on jeans and a tank top and her jacket. Then her boots, because her feet were cold too. And Mary Margaret was making those puppy dog eyes at her, she couldn't say no. 

"I'm so glad you're coming with me," She said to Emma on the walk there. "I know you're coming for him, but I still appreciate it," she offered Emma a secret smile that she couldn't not return. 

"I'm not going for him," Emma responded though. She would keep up the act for as long as she could. 

"Sure, sure," Mary Margaret placated her and held open the door for her. Whatever. 

They got a seat in the middle of the second pew, way up front. Emma had tried for a back corner but Mary Margaret was having none of that. It seemed she was taking it a bit too far, Emma's fondness for their priest's looks. Well she was less fond knowing what he was like underneath it all, she lied to herself. 

As the music started and the doors opened for the procession, Emma had to fight to keep her eyes straight.

\-----

He was looking at her. No, he was staring at her. Hard. Some parishioner was reading the gospel and he was seated behind the altar, eyes glued to her. Emma kept her eyes on he older woman who was reading at the podium off to the side. Maybe she even looked pious to some people. But she could feel his eyes burning through her skin. 

When the woman finished her passage, she closed the book softly and put it on a shelf inside of the podium. She turned to bow to the altar and stepped down, returning to her seat. Emma blinked, and couldn't remember a single thing she'd said. So when Father Jones stood and walked to the front of the altar, he said the last words she would have ever imagined. 

"We all like sex. It's fun, it makes you feel good. And there's nothing wrong with it." He started. Emma could actually feel herself dying slowly as his eyes landed on her's briefly. "But what about premarital sex. It's the same thing right? Well not exactly..."

Mary Margaret seemed to be listening with fervor, but Emma had to consciously block out all of his words because she couldn't think about him and sex at the same time. That just made her think about his fingers trailing down her back, his lips breathing hot air against her throat. She needed air. 

Emma stood abruptly and hurried off to the bathroom, which was right next to the front doors of the church. She felt his eyes on her back even as he continued on about resisting temptation. That bastard had to know exactly what he was doing, driving her up the wall. But she couldn't figure out why. Teasing and breaking vows were very different things.

She thanked God when she found the ladies room empty. Emma splashed some water on her face and patted it dry with paper towels. She looked just like her regular self when she glanced in the mirror, but she knew that man could unwind her just as quickly again. So she opted for self preservation and hid in the bathroom. 

She jumped when she heard a knock on the ladies room door some time later. She hadn't even realized she'd locked it in her rush to be alone. With a shaky laugh, Emma forced herself to move and open the door. Mary Margaret was standing on the other side looking just as flustered as Emma had a little while ago. 

"So I ran into David and Katherine," She said conversationally as she moved in front of a sink. She began rifling through her bag. 

"Did you talk about the inspiring sermon?" Emma joked, glad her friend had showed up. She was more equipped to handle someone else's problems than her own. 

"Actually yes," Mary Margaret replied with a shaky laugh as she abandoned her bag entirely and looked at Emma. "It was the most painfully awkward conversation I've ever had in my life," she said. Emma wanted to hug her, comfort her, but what came out was a laugh. 

They both fell against each other simultaneously, falling into loud laughter. By the time they calmed down, Emma was gasping for breath and they were both pink cheeked again, but for different reasons. Emma felt relaxed for the first time in two weeks and it was awesome. She felt like she could take on a hot priest. 

"If it makes you feel better, I think I have the hots for Father Jones," Emma admitted as Mary Margaret composed herself. She snapped her gaze back to Emma, but she looked no less relaxed.

"Well so does every other young woman in this town," she justified. Emma loved her for it. 

"Want to go watch Netflix and eat junk food?" Emma offered, suddenly in the mood for pajamas and chocolate.

"It's ten o'clock in the morning," Mary Margaret said skeptically, pulling her bag onto her shoulder.

"Even better. No one would suspect it," she said with a grin. Mary Margaret laughed.

"Okay, it sounds fun," she smiled at Emma and took her arm as they left the bathroom. 

"Great, I'll meet you back at the apartment. I just have to do one thing." Emma said, pulling herself free and heading for the hidden hallway. The church had pretty much emptied so she probably wouldn't be the town gossip for the week. That was always good. 

"Alright, I'll see you back home," Mary Margaret said, heading for the doors. 

Emma slipped behind a door of her own and into the stark white hallway. It occurred to her that while their conversation had been intentional, Jones had also meant for her to know about that hallway. He'd wanted her to know where his office was. Or she was reading everything wrong and she was about to make a fool of herself. But what were the chances of that. 

Killian's door was open wide, almost inviting, so Emma leaned herself against the doorway and glanced in. The young man was sitting at his desk leafing through a massive stack of papers. When he looked up and found Emma in his office, he dropped the sheets in his hand and placed the whole stack to the side. 

"What can I do for you today, Miss Swan? Here to talk about the sermon?" He asked, that glint in his eyes that she knew she couldn't have just imagined. 

"It depends on your definition of talk," Emma said, kicking his door shut behind her and smiling at the click of the automatic lock.


End file.
